


To a Lighthouse

by theimprobable1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimprobable1/pseuds/theimprobable1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short ficlet inspired by John's blog post dated April 20.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To a Lighthouse

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written before the interactive trailer was released so it doesn't contain any spoilers as such, but there are some incidental similarities to one of the locked clips.
> 
> Many thanks to Chess-ka for beta work!

Mary hesitated in front of the restaurant where she and John were supposed to meet, wondering if she should go in or wait for him outside. She’d barely had time to finish the thought, however, before she spotted him approaching from the opposite direction.

Even at the distance, there was a change instantly observable in him. She had never known John to slouch, but now he seemed to be holding himself even straighter than usual, a sense of purpose evident in his stride. It lifted Mary’s heart immediately – reading John’s blog post had already made her happy, but seeing John’s resolve written so clearly in his features was even better. John smiled broadly when he saw her, quickening his pace.

Before she could say anything in greeting, he took her head in his hands and kissed her, kissed her like he’d been held underwater and she was air.

“Thank you,” John said breathlessly when they broke apart, holding her close to him.

“What for?” Mary asked, trying to think back to anything she’d done that might deserve such a display of gratitude and coming up with nothing. Unless you counted the casserole recipe she’d emailed John the day before, but she really didn’t think John liked cooking that much.

“For still being here,” John said, stepping back a little so he could look her in the eye and taking her hands in his. “How are you still here, when I’ve been such a useless boyfriend?”

“John. There is a significant difference between a useless boyfriend and a boyfriend who’s just going through a difficult time. Trust me, I know everything about useless boyfriends.”

“Do you?”

“Only from my friends, of course. I happen to have excellent taste in men, as you may have noticed.”

John chuckled wryly, and there was a light in his eyes Mary had never seen before.

“Well, I certainly hope that’s true. But the truth is, you’re an amazing woman and you deserve so much better than I’ve been giving you.”

“John—“

“No, let me finish. I feel like all this time I haven’t been fully _there_ , and that’s not fair to you and it’s not… it’s not what I _want,_ I don’t want to miss a single moment with you because I’m stuck in the past. I don’t want missing Sherlock to be the only thing I feel anymore, and I think – I just needed to realise this, and I did, and now I can… be here, properly. With you.”

Mary looked him, at his open, determined face, and felt like weight she had been trying to ignore for weeks was finally lifted. She didn’t know what to say. It was the most emotional conversation they had had so far, and they were having it in the middle of a street.

“I’m glad,” she said finally. It was intensely inadequate, but it was the best she could do when her heart was swelling. “I know it’s hard. But I know you can do it.”

“Yes,” John said simply, and leaned in to kiss her again, softly this this time.

“Is this why we’re here?” Mary asked, indicating the restaurant. “To celebrate your new beginning?”

John glanced around, and seemed a little surprised that there were actually people walking past them.

“Oh, um. No. Actually, I only wanted to meet here because it’s near the, the cemetery. If you’d go with me.”

For a moment, Mary had no words to answer with. This was so much more than she’d been expecting. John had been very closed off about Sherlock and Mary had known better than to push him where he wasn’t ready, even though she yearned to know about this side of who John was. She’d been hoping he’d let her in a little now, but she hadn’t expected this. Visiting the grave of a loved one was a deeply private thing, and that John wanted her there almost took her breath away.

“Yes, of course, yes,” she said when she found her voice, lacing her fingers with his. This, _this_ was what she’d been so inexplicably hoping for almost since the moment she met John – for him to find the strength to move on, and to want her there when does. It felt like a weigh she’d been trying to ignore for weeks had finally lifted.

As they passed a florist’s Mary suggested buying some flowers.

“What flowers did he like?” she asked as she looked over the display, though she had a feeling Sherlock Holmes hadn’t exactly been a flower person.

“Something carnivorous, probably,” John said with a chuckle. He hadn’t let go of her hand.

“I don’t suppose they’d have that here. Hmm. What about hydrangeas? I’m pretty sure they contain cyanide.”

“Sounds great,” John grinned at her, and Mary was suddenly happy the florist was more interested in her phone than in assisting them with their choice. God knows what she would have thought.

Sherlock’s grave was indicated by a simple black headstone, with nothing but his name written on it. Mary handed the flowers to John, but he shook his head, so she put them down herself and brushed a dead twig from the top of the headstone. 

When she stood up and turned back, John was looking at her, not the grave. She walked back to him and he pulled her close. Mary slipped one arm around his waist, and held on.

John was quiet. Mary wondered what was going through John’s head, but it wasn’t her place to ask. Maybe he would tell her later. She rested her head on his shoulder so that he wouldn’t forget she was there for him, and as she looked at the golden lettering she wondered if Sherlock Holmes had been worth the pain he’d caused. John had loved him, and so he’d found it in himself to forgive him for making his best friend watch his suicide. Maybe he’d never even felt it needed forgiving. Mary didn’t know if she could be so generous. John should never have had to go through that.

But John had found that Sherlock deserved his devotion, and so he probably had. Once he had given John’s life meaning, and Mary would be grateful for that.

“I wish he could’ve known you,” John said then, voice low, and Mary held her breath. “I mean – he would have behaved like a dick, of course, he always treated my girlfriends appallingly. I think he… But he was a genius, sooner or later he’d have to notice how wonderful you are. He would’ve liked you, in his way. I think.”

“Will you tell me about him?” Mary asked carefully. 

John kissed the top of her head.

“I will,” he said. “I want to. It felt like I couldn’t even say his name for so long, but I want to, now. Tell you. Because I… I wouldn’t be who I am without him and it matters to me that you know that. If you wanted to come over tonight, I’ve got some… photos and things I’d like to show you.”

“I’d like that,” Mary said, smiling up at him.

“I’ll wait by the gate,” she said after a while, extricating herself from John’s arms. She felt privileged to have been asked to come with him, but doubtless he needed some time alone.

John looked down at her and nodded. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Mary squeezed his arm, and walked slowly to the gate. John hadn’t looked sad just now – he’d looked at peace. Maybe there would still be days when she’d find John with that old faraway look, sorrow weighing down his shoulders, but that was okay. She was going to be there to support him and help him through it, and now she felt confident that he would let her.

**Author's Note:**

> "Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a light-house."  
> \- The Man with the Twisted Lip


End file.
